She drinks He eats

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She drinks her vomit for breakfast and licks his ass for lunch.

Why are we so fucking crazy that we sit in the sun and talk about hair and makeup, fisheyes and his overhanging stomach

Yesterday grows longer with each story we tell

He tells a story he knows isn't true, but he believes in the story and we believe in him

Not sure how we could, but we do.

He talked about how he was a fisheye collector at the docks in Shanghai, how he got paid well for being the quickest fisheye gouger even though he was white, 19, Ann's boyfriend and rather large for his size.

He grabbed the fish for us, showed us how to hold it right behind the gills and dig your fingers into its eye sockets and then hold the eyes in the same hand until the hand was full and you could drop them all in a bucket

He said he could hold 88 eyes in his hand at one time

That's the night Ann picked up her puke habit

It never should have happened, but even after three years, she still believes it's her boyfriend, the fish-gouger's fault, which always inspires a rye smile from my eyes

How someone can get addicted to puke is beyond me, but then again, I can't understand how people get addicted to war, either. How death can be a solution for others living right

And let's not even think upon Ann and her boyfriend's ass habit

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